Chapter 3 - The Passport in His Hand.
Alexander studied my face as I returned to the terminal.
"You look strange," he said.
I almost laughed.
My husband had secretly married his secretary, staged a second wedding with me, and apparently booked a notarization meeting on our honeymoon.
Yet somehow, my expression was the suspicious thing.
"I didn't sleep much," I said.
Khloe glanced at her phone.
"Security is getting worse."
Alexander reached for my suitcase.
"Then let's move."
I let him pull it for six steps.
Then I stopped.
"Wait."
He turned sharply.
"What now?"
I pressed one hand to my stomach.
The nausea was partly an act.
Only partly.
"I don't feel well."
Khloe gave Alexander a quick look.
It lasted less than a second.
But I saw it.
They had discussed me before.
My habits.
My reactions.
Maybe even how easy they believed I would be to manage.
I leaned against a column.
"I need to sit down."
Alexander exhaled through his nose.
"Sophia, boarding starts in twenty minutes."
"Then go ahead."
His eyes narrowed.
"What?"
"I'll meet you at the gate."
I looked at the leather document wallet in his hand.
He always carried both of our passports when we traveled.
It was one of those small habits I had once found protective.
Now it looked like control.
I held out my hand.
"Give me my passport."
Alexander hesitated.
That hesitation told me more than any confession could have.
"Why?"
"Because if I have to see the airport clinic, I may need identification."
Khloe shifted her weight.
"We really should go."
I looked directly at her.
"Then go."
The sweetness in my voice made her blink.
Alexander checked his watch.
Then he opened the wallet and handed me my passport.
For one reckless second, I wondered whether I should take his too.
I did not.
I wanted him to board that plane.
I wanted him far away from New York while I learned exactly what he had done.
"Five minutes," he said.
"Ten at most."
I gave him a weak smile.
"Of course."
He bent to kiss my forehead.
I had to force myself not to recoil.
"See you at the gate, Mrs. Mercer," he murmured.
Mrs. Mercer.
The cruelty of it almost broke my composure.
Khloe smiled as they turned away.
She rolled her matching cream suitcase beside him like the two of them had rehearsed the scene.
I watched until they disappeared into the crowd.
Then I stood straight.
I was not dizzy anymore.
I was furious.
I called Dana first.
"They are going through security."
"Are you with them?"
"No."
"Good."
"I have my passport."
"Even better."
Then I called Martin Cole, the director of my family office.
He answered with a cheerful congratulations that died when I interrupted him.
"Martin, freeze every discretionary account Alexander can access."
Silence.
"Sophia, are you certain?"
"Completely."
"Joint cards too?"
"Anything funded by me, my trust, or Moreland Holdings."
"Understood."
"Revoke the temporary travel authorization on my American Express account."
"Done."
"And flag any transfer request submitted in the last seventy-two hours."
His keyboard began clicking.
Then he stopped.
"Sophia."
"What?"
"There was a transfer request this morning."
My skin went cold.
"How much?"
"Four hundred eighty thousand dollars."
I gripped my phone tighter.
"To whom?"
Martin took a breath.
"A Nevada company called Blue Laurel Holdings."
The unknown number had told me the marriage certificate was only the beginning.
Now I understood why.
"Who owns Blue Laurel?"
"Give me a moment."
I heard rapid typing.
Then Martin said the name I was already afraid to hear.
"Khloe Bennett."
Across the terminal, the departure board flashed ON TIME beside Alexander's flight to Honolulu.
I stared at it for three seconds.
Then I turned toward the airport exit.
Alexander thought I was following him to the gate.
May you like
Instead, I was going home to dismantle whatever he had built behind my back.
MY HUSBAND BROUGHT HIS SECRETARY ON OUR HONEYMOON
